


Embracing Philosophy

by Avirra



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 10:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1979601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avirra/pseuds/Avirra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What could be more peaceful than a zen garden?  In the opinion of the Solo/Kuryakin team - almost anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embracing Philosophy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the PicFic Tuesday Challenge of 9-4-12.

The scene should have been one of peace. Tranquility. Napoleon was at the edge of a well-maintained and, to his admittedly unschooled eye, well done zen garden. His back to a Japanese red pine that had been cleared of all branches lower than eight feet off the ground, he had an unimpeded view of his partner directly across the way at the opposite edge of the garden.

Illya was stretched between two cherry trees with ropes bound to his wrists, then pulled to and tied off on the tree to that corresponding side. All Illya had remaining on were his pants - his jacket, shirt, socks and shoes had all been stripped away. He was not tensing and testing the ropes. In fact, Illya didn't even seem to be fully aware of his condition.

The man, known to him only as Hodaka, moved behind Illya grasping a handful of the blond hair and forcing Illya's head forward until his chin pressed against his chest. He held the Russian that way for several long moments before releasing the hold. It bothered Napoleon greatly that Illya hadn't fought against it at all and he wondered if his partner was still suffering under the effects of the gas that had led to them being - well, wherever they were and in the predicament they were in.

Walking around the outskirts of the garden, Hodaka double checked the bindings that drew Napoleon's own arms back along either side of the pine tree that he had been backed against.

"Nothing Mister Kuryakin says will make a difference to the amount of punishment he will take. On the other hand, Mister Solo? You will be able to stop it with a single word. Just yell stop."

Napoleon wished at that very moment that the phrase 'if looks could kill' had real meaning. He glowered at their captor who just smiled in a maddening fashion as he made sure the thick cloth over Napoleon's mouth was still tight. He doubted he could even make a sound loud enough to make it across the garden, let alone get a sensible word out.

"There is a saying, Mister Solo. Do not speak unless it improves on silence."

Picking up a knotted rope that had been coiled at Napoleon's feet, Hodaka ran his fingers along the thin, coarse hemp with a smile that sent a cold shiver down Napoleon's spine as his gaze returned to his still unresponsive partner.

Hodaka made his way back around the edge of the garden, holding the rope almost lovingly in his left hand for a few moments as he reached out his right hand and traced along Illya's spine possessively as he spoke loudly enough for Napoleon to hear.

"They say pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional. Let us see if your friend can embrace that philosophy, shall we?"

The rope was snapped across Illya's bare flesh and the arched back was the first sign that, if nothing else, Illya could feel what was happening. Wincing as the second blow struck, Napoleon pulled harder at his own bindings, but managed to do little more than make the ropes break his skin. He could feel the trickling dampness, but couldn't be sure if it was sweat or blood.

After the fifth lash, Illya's head suddenly jerked up and he spoke. Napoleon's first thought was to wonder if the combination of the drugs and pain had made his partner mad. He couldn't think of any other reason for Illya popping out an odd question in the middle of torture. Illya's voice was strained, but clear.

"Have you ever read the writings of Tsunetomo?"

To Napoleon's surprise, Hodaka stopped his arm before the sixth blow fell and frowned deeply. Letting the now bloody rope drop from his hand to the ground, Hodaka moved around until he was in front of the blond, staring deeply into the eyes that were as blue as any demon from the myths he had heard as a child.

"What do you know about Tsunetomo?"

When Illya remained mute, Hodaka drew out a short blade, pressing it against the Russian's chest just hard enough to draw blood and then drew the sharp edge along the length of one rib before driving the blade into the cherry tree to Illya's right. Drawing the twin to the first blade, he approached Illya again.

"I do not like to repeat myself. What do you know about Tsunetomo?"

Illya seemed to be totally ignoring both the blood trailing down toward his waistband and the threat of the second blade.

"You didn't answer my question, but since you know the name, then I assume you have read the Hagakure. Notice the rather large rock to itself that lies between myself and Napoleon?"

Turning toward Napoleon, Hodaka narrowed his eyes as he studied the rock with its patches of whites and mossy greens, taking a step closer to it as if that would provide an answer.

Napoleon's only warning was seeing Illya's hands grasping the ropes leading from his wrists to the trees. In a quick move, Illya made use of the tight ropes to brace himself, whipping his legs up to wrap around Hodaka, jerking him backwards.

Not being ready for an attack from behind, Hodaka lost his balance and fell onto his back. Illya didn't allow the man any recovery time, stomping down on Hodaka's throat with the heel of his foot as hard as he could. The struggle underneath him was brief as Illya shifted to put as much of his full body weight as he could onto that heel, not removing it from Hodaka's throat until he was quite sure that the man would never rise again.

The ropes at his wrists had apparently been fairly new as they had stretched a little bit from Illya throwing his full weight on them. Not a lot of give, but enough for him to start working his way free. Escape came quicker once he was able to work the one rope against the blade embedded into the right hand tree. Once his right hand was free, it was only a matter of minutes before he was removing the second blade from the dead man and heading over to free Napoleon, striding through and disrupting the patterns of the carefully raked sand and pebbles as if they were nothing.

For his part, Napoleon was happiest to have the stifling cloth removed from across his mouth. He took a deep breath, then gave Illya a look that combined gratitude and relief.

"Thanks, chum. What was all that about the Hagakure?"

"It was a somewhat controversial view of the Bushido."

"The Way of the Warrior? I've heard of that. What about it?"

"You recall he was quoting Zen philosophy to us? Part of the Hagakure says 'As everything in this world is but a sham, Death is the only sincerity.' Since he was trying to force me to embrace his philosophy, it seemed only fair to force him to sincerely embrace mine."

"Well, he does look sincerely dead."

"That he does, my friend. Shall we be on our way?"

"Definitely. We need to get your back seen to as well. By the way, Illya? Was there actually something that you saw in that one rock?"

"Yes, Napoleon. A red herring."


End file.
